26 . . . . , , J HE .,: ' .1 , ... -:.,"\ ..... , -.J." \ " . t- - . Q HEÄ TR E J. - ,,---: , 1./ o . I I \" ; ' \ \ . ,. ...... ..<- , ;= \. A >> i"; I' .-.. 'f )" <& ., î\:-:J:; "A GOOD IDEA, ßUT-" O NE of the reasons (if anyone cares) why so few dramatic critics try to write plays for themselves is that they are flop-shy. Practically every night of their lives they have it brought home to them how little they really know about play- writing. A man who goes only to the hits on Broadway may very well think' of himself as a potential hit-playwright and go home and try it. It looks easy. But a critic, who has to see all the flops as well, has peered into the wan faces of too many expiring brain-chil- dren and seen there the lineaments of a possible child of his own. You don't hear of any of the reporters who cov- ered the Bowery "smoke whiskey" deaths touching any of the stuff them- sel ves. Probably every dramatic critic has occasion, at least once or twice a month, to say to himself as he pulls the sheet over some casualty, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." Mr. George S. Kaufman is the one conspicuous ex- ception to this generalization, and, although he has plenty of hits to his credit, he suffers from apprehension and disordered digestion on an open- ing night to such a spectacular degree that it can hardly be worth even his beautiful subsequent royalties. He suf- fers much more than an ordinary play- wright because he knows more than an ordinary playwright aboul that icy wind which springs out of nowhere, blowing where it listeth and chilling even those dramatic works which, up until the rise of the curtain, have seemed to be headed for a long and useful life. Of course, Mr. St. John Ervine, too, has written several hits, but he would not be the type of dra- matic critic to be tortured by doubt. And, in "The First Mrs. Fraser" at any rate, he had nothing to be doubtful about. "The First Mrs. Fraser" has always been a successful play, no mat- ter what its title. P ROBABL Y a great many of us have, in our lighter moods, thought that it would be rather comical to write a mystery play interspersed with mu- sical-comedy numbers. \\T ell, it isn't. .o,: ' Ji1 @ ",,:.} I i\i'f": ..<rlr-- : r; : 1;' ;>ON .,,,,,:I :.., 0, ",AM I ' ,'ì;a " '" "'0 . I- . ' 12;-' ;J\'i. J - * r' i <, (' ':' .I i':: , J:; d_"' . ... >,F' -- " . ' . - - ......... :i' . : , " / : ' " : : " , ' : , , ; , , ' ,,, :; : " : , ,, i , i , ,, '< . . , f::: , i , :; Þ , ;I , :: :: ' : : :, . " : : , ' :: > ,, . , > ::: , ,:,: ' , O' , \ , , , . . " " . . : : :, ' , < , ' . ' . : . . , : , '_'<', :. :::: ' _ #'4Ç \: ,: , . ;:":: $,' .' ! ':' : ':""' 11i _ i #.. """_f" "<: , "_, j '1(,/ t! i , ,:::::", < ",.: t\)\: ,:, :." ;:!:t, " ':::::t,,:,,:d;::A::;::::Y:::::i&i%::,::: ::,; ':< ;i ; !t :,;;;.::;:::" "":'. \ }I F >, > ' > 'I ,> -. ; "t4J it! I " :t :; , : " """ f[ '> : l>' ;k il -J " -"."., ,þ>;', ' '."'::, . ':< 1 . " '!.. t' ,,' ..' ':,: ' { .. ,.,. 'i,:., } ,ft . '1., '.>>,<:;; ;;...- . .. >': . "''l'" .,,;;;, " ' " " , ' " , , , ; , , l::!':l;:::,r :: , j< . :: , : :K" , :<,, :- , ? , : , ; : i >.,';,: klE/ J . ..:..::;:::::::::.::. . .'. ..:...:.:.::::::: :::;::::::' "\Ve might very well have tried it, had we not fortunately been beaten to it by lVlr. Fred Herendeen with his "Mys- tery Moon." If Mr. Herendeen had come to us last spring and said: "What do you think of having a real, spooky, hokey mystery, during which, at odd intervals, a chorus comes on and does numbers called 'Milkmaids of Broad- way' or '\Vhat Could I Do but Fall in Love with You?'" we should prob- ably have said: "You've got something there, Mr. Herendeen!" It took a complete production of this idea on the stage of the Royale Theatre to prove that what lVlr. Herendeen had there was a big, scrawny turkey. Of course, "lVlystery lVloon" isn't the ideal consummation of the com- bination mystery and musical comedy. It is a combination which retains the worst features of each. The gags are awful, the music nothing, and the mys- tery even more of a joke than it was ll1eant to be. But the thing that stands out above all is that the idea itself isn't funny. It ought to be. It has novelty and a certain wildness, and, in theory, is an inspiration worthy of a Cohan revue. But, under a spotlight, some- :'=- :" .:".$::::::,. "." ' ..:" tt ::?,:..:; : : dVLY 5. 19-'0 thing about it turns green, something which has nothing to do with the dialogue and music. It just doesn't j ell, that's all. This may seem quite a lot of space to devote to such an excruciatingly un- important event as the opening of "Mystery Moon," but there is a fairly important point at stake. In the scram- ble for originality which is beginning to mark the struggle between the speak- ing stage and the speaking movies, a lot of people with ideas which sound good at luncheon in June are going to find out, along about nine-thirty on an opening night in October, that they weren't such good ideas after all. Sometimes this will be due to the handling and the acting, but a great many times it will be that, beyond a certain point, Novelty turns and eats its young. There are some things which even a master-playwright cannot do with the mind of an audience. One of them is to change it from being the mind of an audience. l""'his was shown very clearly in "Hotel Universe," which was a grand idea in collision with an immovable body. In the list of "Failures of 1929- 30" printed by Variety there were sev- eral other examples. "Deah Old Eng- I d " " Th d . h A o " " 0 an , un er In t e lr, . ut of a Blue Sky," all were attempts to do the thing a little differently and to ring in a new twist. I t is true, they might have been much better done, but eyen then they would have suffered F'[RE-EATER'S " \TIFE: "[lurry, dear) you'll be late for the show."